It was in the cavernous basement of the then tallest building in the Manhattan neighborhood of
Chelsea, rented by a pharmaceutical company to house the creation of Stonewall 25’s mile long
rainbow flag. that it's creator, Gilbert Baker, articulated the perfect answer to the problem
presented by the formation committee (none from New York) of 1994’s Stonewall 25
event when they asked that people refrain from showing up in either Drag or Leather for the
festivities so as to present a palatable media image that straight America could more easily
digest. 

“We should throw a Drag March,” he challenged the group.

While it does take a lot of effort to sew a mile long flag, it’s not as time consuming as one would
think, so Gilbert’s makeshift studio was quite often more salon than workshop, with overstuffed
furniture surrounding a low coffee table in the break area of the space. There was always time
to chat.

I, Brian Griffin, also known as Harmonie Moore of the agitprop activist group Church Ladies For
Choice, made my way into Mr. Baker’s circle after being introduced at an affinity group meeting
to the larger group ACT UP, the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power. I had been a member of
ACT UP for four years. You couldn’t plan illegal actions from the floor of ACT UP. You did so in
separate, smaller gatherings: affinity groups. This group was named Action Tours and known
for the theatricality of their endeavors. I had been a member of Action Tours for two years.
If you consider Gilbert, the Betsy Ross of the LGBT Community, a Star, then I guess you could
call me a starfucker. I just thought it was nice to be around someone I could shoot out ideas
with and never get shot down; enthusiasm was his specialty. Once the words “Drag March”
were spoken, my activist work gave me the confidence to know exactly how to make it happen.
What it had going for it was the anger generated by the assimilationist gays (the “becky with the
good hair” gays) attempt to make invisible the very people the event was set to celebrate. The
sheer hypocrisy of this still angers me to this day, and I knew back then that the small group
working to sew the rainbow flag, in this fury, couldn’t be alone.

I created and put out 2000 “Jesus Loves Drag” pamphlets that lampooned a Christian tract I had
collected. I made sure the event was listed in any and all Stonewall 25 event publications that I
could make the deadline for. A Drag March working group was created within Action Tours and
we then worked with the best Lesbian marshals of ACT UP to set up and secure the march
which included finding legal support. It was decided that the march would happen on the Friday
night before Pride. We worked out the march’s route, Tompkin’s Square Park to the Stonewall
Inn, East to West Village; then I walked it to ensure we wouldn’t end up walking against traffic.
The night of the Drag March came and went. It was sublime. I took the time to walk back from
the front of march estimating a thousand people per city block and moved through ten blocks of
amazing people. Air kisses and chats and songs and hugs were shared in full gender
performance technicolor glory, from all around the world. The crowd was treated by fire dancers
in front of the Stonewall Inn, and then with no urging, broke out singing “Somewhere Over The
Rainbow,” a tradition continued to this day.

The Sunday Times wrote an article about a visiting Canadian Lesbian couple and quoted them
as saying that their favorite and most authentic event of all the Stonewall 25 festivities was the
Drag March.

​

I stayed a part of organizing the Drag March until my career pulled me away from New York in
the summers in 1997. I believe it lived on without my encouragement due the needs and joy
that it fulfills. Back in town from 2001 on, I’ve been Drag Marching all these wonderful years.

Praise Bea (Arthur!)